Two Pauls
by Fallen Ark Angel
Summary: It was the worst of times. Every single day. During Paul's first quad injury, he hardly ever sees it any other way. - One-shot.


Paul was a very serious person.

He could put on, be jokey and funny and have a great time when he was feeling up for it, but on the rare days when he wasn't doing something for the business, the man went into a completely different mode.

Steph called it the Tale of Two Pauls, but he didn't really think he was much different. When he was just sitting around her place or his own, he just liked to...decompress. He didn't drink or smoke and was in a very committed relationship to her, so it was probably for the best, that he was able to find ways to other ways to take the edge off rather than the vices most men succumb to.

Not that it bothered Stephanie much. She kind of preferred it, actually, the times when they were actually able to be together being spent just hanging around the house. And he was such a great listener, when he wasn't all hyped up.

During his quad injury, however, that became all that Paul was.

Quiet. A lot of the times. Even when she'd call him while she was away (she was always away), it was her job to talk and his to just make small comments randomly. Before his rehab started and he was mostly just waiting for his leg to be able to handle going through it, he would sit up in a hotel room for most hours of the day and do nothing.

She came to visit him. A lot, actually. More than she probably should have. Her position in the company was ever changing and she had to be more available, because of that, but she seemed to put him on as high of a priority as she did it.

Even when he told her not to.

"Honestly, Steph," he said more than once when she'd come to visit, bearing whatever things he asked her for (from DVDs to some more socks, Steph would get him anything). "My family comes by, like, all the time. And I have friends that-"

"I wanna come," was her typical reply. "Unless...you don't want me to, I guess."

That would only serve to make him frown. "Of course I do. But I know how busy you are. Your time-"

"I'd rather spend whatever free amount of it I get with you than waste it on anything else."

And that was just that.

Her commitment to him, however, didn't help his mood. Much. In some ways it would raise his spirits, having her around or constantly checking in on him, but for the most part, he was just as sullen as ever.

Much was the same one day when she stopped by to see him and Paul was stretched out on the couch of his hotel room. For obvious reasons, he didn't get up to greet her.

"You're late."

"I hit, like, the worst traffic. You wouldn't even believe."

He only watched as she came over to the couch, some bags in her arms. Setting them down on the little coffee table in front of the couch, she said, "I stopped off and got you something to eat. Are you hungry?"

"Always," he grumbled as he struggled to sit up. His bum leg was propped up on some couch pillows while his other fell off the couch, resting on the ground. "What'd you bring me?"

"I stopped off at this restaurant and got you some grilled fish."

"Great." Paul watched as she pulled one of the to-go containers out of the sack and handed it to me. "Get me some water, will you?"

"Of course."

He shifted, to give her somewhere to sit, so that his leg was propped on the table instead. Steph fell right into the couch with him easily, her own box in her hands and, for awhile, he got all caught up on everything that had been going on in her life since they last spoke.

A lot, apparently.

They'd only spoken, oh, two days ago.

Sigh.

"How's your leg feel?" Steph finally asked after going on for at least half an hour about herself as he only sat there, listening. "Paul?"

"Better, I guess. Or the same, maybe."

"But not worse though?" When he shook his head, she grinned and reached over to gently rub at his shoulder. "Good. That's all that matters."

Steph was only staying for the night. Bright and early the next morning, she had to leave him. He knew this. It was part of the plan. He should have been sucking up all the time that they had together. But…

He didn't feel like it. That day. Most days. He just wanted to sit there, sulk, and have her take care of him.

She enjoyed that part a whole bunch.

"Okay, so I need to get your laundry done-"

"Uh-huh."

"-and you say that you need me to buy you some more-"

"There's a list on the desk."

Steph pushed up from the couch to go glance over it. Then while glancing over it, she said, "Did you want me to do that all now? Or later?"

When that only got a shrug, she laughed at him for some reason before coming back to the man. Not sitting down once more, she only shoved at his head once, him tilting it back with no resistance. Staring up at her, he watched as her hand came up to his forehead again, running her fingers through his hair that time rather than shove him.

"You don't wanna come with me?"

"To watch you do laundry and shop?" Snort. "If I wanted to go, I'dda just done it all myself."

"You're so sweet."

"I try."

He got a kiss to the cheek, but he didn't feel much up for returning her mumbles of love. Only sat there and watched her until she left, taking a sack of his dirty clothes with her.

Shifting on the couch once more, he laid flat on his back, some sportscaster on the television droning on about drivel.

Paul watched the clock on the nightstand more than he would have liked to admit, constantly craning his neck over towards it frequently, annoyed with every minute that ticked by and Stephanie wasn't back.

Why did he send her away? Or let her get away? Literally ever?

In the days he'd go without seeing her, when they were regulated to short phone conversations, he at least was able to do other things than just fret over when she'd be back. He'd watch TV, light weight lifting (his leg was bummed, but his arms certainly weren't), go hobble around on his crutches; something.

But with her being so close, in the same damn town as him, his mind just about completely shut down. He didn't treat her well when she was around, didn't entertain her or put on an act for her, like he might his family and friends that came to visit, didn't joke or give her those great big smiles, but he did want her. There. With him. As much as possible.

But he also liked sending her out to do his bidding, albeit at times tedious and purely just him exhibiting the last bit of power he had (which happened to be over her), mostly just because he loved the idea of her willing doing so.

Lovingly doing so.

Steph told him a lot that, if she had a more normal job, she would spend every day caring for him after work, before work; hell, she'd probably use her lunch break to come care for him. And even though this annoyed him at times, as he most certainly wasn't helpless, it also reminded him of just how much the woman cared for him.

A lot. A whole lot. A hell of a lot.

Paul was in the bathroom when Stephanie got back, but he only grumbled out that she could come in there with him if she wanted; he was just washing off.

"Getting spruced up for something special?"

He made a face as Steph came to sit up on the bathroom counter and watch him as he sat there, on a chair in the bathroom, only in his boxers as he ran a washcloth all over.

"I'll have you know," he grumbled as she grinned, happy just to be around him, it seemed, "that I thoroughly washed for your arrival."

"Do you smell like peaches?"

"Definitely."

"All primped?"

"And groomed."

"That's what I like to hear."

"And I take it," he said, staring over at her with a rather serious expression, "that I can expect the same from you?"

Making a face at him, Steph said, "That's personal."

"And I'm just the person that should know about it."

"But are you though?"

"I better be."

He tossed her the washcloth then and, without even needing a command, Steph moved to dunk it in the sink, which he'd filled with warm water. Wringing it out, she tossed it right back before saying, "Being on the road's hard, baby. You just don't understand."

"Uh-huh."

"Day in and day out with people constantly throwing themselves at you? It's easy for you, back at home, in your safe little part of the world. My life is on the line every night. You think it's easy to get out of that arena when you're the most hated person in it?"

"No a clue."

"It's hard. It's so hard. And, if anything, you should just focus on what I am when I'm here; with you. Not what I am out there. Out there? I'm someone completely different. A whole other person. Persona. And what the other Steph does can't be held accountable to me."

"Not at all."

"It doesn't matter who I spend the night with, you know. Just who I come home to. I-"

"You okay over there?" Paul raised an eyebrow as she was unable to finish, nearly falling off the sink in her fit of giggles.

No one cracked Steph up as much as, well, Steph.

No one.

"Huh?" he repeated with a shake of his head as she put a hand over her mouth. "For a shitty gag, you sure are having a good laugh about it."

Finally able to swallow her giggles, Steph got out, "I'm not joking. That was all serious."

"Uh-huh."

"I'm very promiscuous, Paul."

"I know."

"And-"

"Stop laughing through your damn set ups. Hell, Steph, how are you even able to get through a show again?"

"It's harder when it's just the two of us."

He only shook his head at her. "To think the damn daughter of Vince McMahon can't sell sleeping around on the road...well, then again, maybe it's because he's never pretending, but-"

"That's not funny." And cured her giggles. Real fast. "At all."

He only ran the cloth all around his face before, instead of tossing it to her, tossing the cloth into the sink. Then, with a slight grumble, he said, "Help me up."

With a roll of her eyes, she popped up to do just that. Helping him get to his feet and his crutches, Steph only stared up at him as she said, "Was there anything else you needed for me to do? Today?"

He hardly glanced at her, as he hobbled out of the bathroom, but did grumble out, "Just be with me," which was enough to get back on her good side again.

For something so easy to lose, it was just as simple to find.

They fell into the bed together, that time, Steph lying opposite his torn quad. She rested on his chest though, curled into him, spending a good part of the evening watching some stupid chick show that was annoying and dramatic and just…

Ugh.

Paul spent it lying there, letting her toy with his chest (she really liked running her hands up and down his abdomen) as he passed the time between trying not to drift off and playing with/smelling her hair. The show was mind numbing and he kind of wanted to ask her to get him his CD player, but was also too comfortable to let her get up.

He was stuck.

Well, kind of.

He sorta was enjoying himself too. Her. He was enjoying her.

It was enough to help him get through the grueling never-ending drivel that she was watching.

Paul dozed off a bit (he'd gotten rather lazy as of late), but was frequently woken up by Steph mumbling to herself or griping at the other women on screen, annoyed with their antics.

That made two of them.

"Awe," Steph complained eventually, slapping his chest with her hand, as if out of frustration. "That was the last episode for today."

Finally.

"Mmmm." She gave his chest some kisses as her hand reached over him, to where the remote laid on the mattress. Absently flicking the television off, she grinned up at him. "It's gettin' late, you know."

"I know."

"I have to leave in the morning. So I need to go out and get us something for dinner."

"You don't gotta."

"But I do."

"I got some left over chicken in the mini-fridge from last night. And protein bars. Water." He leaned his head down to gently nuzzle against hers. "You. Just stay here."

He was being so cute, so very cute, that he more than deserved the languid kisses they shared then. One of her hands rested on on his chest as the other fell to his bicep, squeezing a bit.

"Paul," she mumbled against his lips as he tangled his fingers in her hair. "Your phone."

It was the hotel phone, actually, rining next to the bedside.

Considering it was too late to be a doctor, he really couldn't care less about anyone else calling. The only thing that might matter, at the moment, was about to show him why she mattered, so…

"Ignore it."

"It might be important."

"Ignore- Steph-"

"I'll get it." She had to lean over him to do so, as it was on his side of the bed. Paul grumbled, but she was giggling about it as she picked the phone off the hook.

"Hello?" she sang as Paul only frowned down at her. "Oh, hi. No, he's here. It was just...easier for me to answer the phone. Mmmhmm. No. Just for the night. I have things to do tomorrow. I'll be, like, on the other side of the country for the next few weeks, so I figured I'd stop by and see him. No, he's...Paul." He about shoved her out of his lap at that. "But yeah, he's fine. Mmmhmm. I'll tell him to call you tomorrow. Bye."

Steph took her time too, enjoying stretching across him, as she hung up the phone. The second she had, she turned her head to grin up at him as she said, "That was your mommy."

"I really don't want to talk about her right now."

"Why?"

"Gee, Steph, because we were in the middle of-"

"You need to call her tomorrow."

"Yeah, I got that, I was right here."

"Grumpy much?"

Just really needing to get his family out of his head and Steph right back in. Or him in her. He liked the latter idea the best.

When he only scowled, she giggled before moving to rub her nose against his. He never liked this (she did for some reason and he mostly just put up with it), so it did nothing for him. At all.

Steph was undeterred.

"Mmmm." She ran a hand across his stubbly chin. "So what was it you wanted to do then? Huh? Before the phone rang?"

"I think you know."

"I think I wanna hear it."

"You do not."

"Do too."

"You can't act."

"You're just a bully today."

Maybe a little.

Pushing up, Paul rested with his back against the headboard as he said, "If I say what I want, will you do it?"

"Mmmhmm." She even nodded. "I want to."

"No matter what it is?"

"We both know what it is, so just say it so that we can go on."

"Maybe I'll surprise you."

"Will you though?"

No.

Paul felt funny too, that night, as they settled down eventually. Steph slept with her back to him for much of it, but that wasn't too odd and certainly not what was bothering him.

He just...couldn't sleep.

His mind kept drifting to thing. Multiple things. Not just his current situation, but things in general. With so much time on his hands until he started his rehabbing in the coming weeks, Paul found himself watching a lot of the news.

A lot.

So that sorta stuff bugged him frequently. It was on almost all hours of the day! He could just sit there and stare at it, even hearing the same information repeated at times, as if lost in it. There was so much that he just didn't know about, didn't hear about, because he would get caught up in his own life, his own busy life, and just didn't have time to find out about.

Now he did though. He knew about everything.

Err, well, he felt like he knew about everything. And felt way smarter than he typically did.

It woke Steph up too, at three in the morning, when he turned on one of the twenty-four hour stations to hear updates on anything and everything.

She was not pleased.

"What are you doin'?" his girlfriend yawn, sitting up in bed. "Did you need a light? To get to the bathroom? Or-"

"Watching TV."

"Paul," she groaned, falling back into the bed. "It's," she said with a pause as she glanced at the digital clock, "three in the morning."

"Which is when there's a lot going on in other parts of the world."

"Baby, you need a hobby. Or something to do during the day that will tire you out."

Head lulling to the side, he only stared at her. "If that was you offering to buy me a whore-"

"Don't be gross."

"-unless you're offering yourself up for the position, I don't want one."

"Don't be cute either. Not at three in the morning."

Paul only went back to staring at his television. "You're leaving in, like, two hours."

"Two and a half. Maybe three."

He took in a deep breath before whispering, "I hate this."

"I know."

"No, you don't. None of you fucking know. I'm at the top of the damn company and I blow a quad?" He let out a noisy breath through his nose. "I can't wrestle, I can't go places, I'm stuck in this damn room-"

"Paul-"

"I hate it. I hate it all."

She'd known she was getting off too easy. That even with a short visit, he was too well behaved the entire time. Too reserved. It wasn't a true visit if he didn't blow his head a bit.

"You do not."

"Yes, I do."

"Wrestling isn't the world."

"Says the person that still gets to be in it."

"Paul, do you honestly think that if you can't come back-"

"I can't. No one ever does from this shit."

"-that I won't make sure you have some kind of job up at the company?" She rolled onto her side then, but when she tried to lay a hand on his chest, he shoved it off. "Paul-"

"I don't want _a_ fucking job. I want my fucking job."

"And you'll work at it, baby. Maybe you can come back. Maybe-"

"I can't."

"You're not- Stop shoving my hand away," she told him, her own tone dropping into the dangerously low quadrant then as, once more, he'd done just that. "I mean it."

So he laid there miserably as she came closer and rested her head atop his chest, as if that was supposed to absolve the anger boiling up inside of him.

As they laid there in silence, it didn't do so, but it did...help. Kind of. And, with a huff, he eventually got out, "I don't get to be with you either."

"I know."

"Even when your dad was all pissed about...us and I have that shit going on with Joanie, we still got to at least see one another. Now I have to watch the damn show if I wanna see you."

"I come to visit you as much as I-"

"I know."

"I love you."

"I love you too, Steph," he agreed. "But still… We've never had to spend so much time away from one another. And I'm starting my rehab soon, which means-"

"You'll be the one busy."

"Yeah."

Pushing up a bit, she stared down at him, the soft glow of the television highlighting her features as she said, "I don't care, Paul, if I only see you once a week, once every two weeks, or once a year; I still wanna be with you."

"That's a bit much."

"Do you not feel that way?" When he said nothing, she said, "It's different, with you, than it's ever been for me. I've...thought that I loved someone before, and maybe I did, but with you I… I just know that we'll get passed this. We've been getting passed it. And we'll keep getting passed it. You can't be at work, you can't travel; those are just the facts. But that has nothing to do with you and me. We just have to appreciate one another in other ways."

Reaching up, Paul ran his fingers through her hair as he said, "Vince told me, once, when he was all pissy at me over this whole thing, that the only reason you were even interested in me was because of the show. That we were too close on the show and that you were just too into character. That I was too into my character."

"We both do commit quite well."

Nodding, he said, "And he told me the second our storyline was finished, neither of us would care for the other one any longer. I'd realized how I fucked up my relationship for nothing to be with someone that only wanted me because we were playing a role on TV. That we weren't really together; Hunter and Smackdown Steph were together."

His fingers fell through the strands of hair one more time before he moved to rest his palm gently against her cheek, cupping it.

"But that was bullshit," he told her with a scowl, just from the thought. "I don't fucking love the character you play. I think you play a fucking bitch. I love that you're sweet and kind and that you love the business, more than me even-"

"Not even close."

"-and that we like the same shit. You love going to concerts with me and counting my reps for me and just… You're nothing like what you play on TV."

"And neither are you," she told him as she leaned into his touch. "You're not Hunter. You're so different."

"I know."

"You're the only guy I've ever been with that honestly gets it, you know? When I'm telling you about my dad or the stuff I have to put up with, because of the business." She gave him a rather big grin then. "You listen to me. Instead of just thinking all of my problems are petty or that I'm just spoiled-"

"Oh, no, I think you are. I just don't care."

"-you actually care."

"I care a lot."

"Even though you have your own shit going on right now." It was her turn to let out a long breath, eyes locked with his as she said, "It's not even just that stuff either. It's something that I just...feel. About you. That hasn't gone away, even after all the stuff we had to get through to even get here. It's not a game."

"Well, it is a game, silly." He'd been harsh, before, and was keeping her up, he knew. He had very little to do the next day, but she certainly had to be on the road early. It wasn't fair for him to send her out any more exhausted than need be. Sitting up a bit, he leaned his head forwards so that it could rest against hers. "I'm the Game. You just like playing it."

"I love playing it."

"You're the best at it."

"It's easy when you're the only player."

"Even when you weren't, you still had the highest score."

"...Can we stop with the game jokes? Because I've reached my threshold of interest in it."

"Go to sleep, baby." He dropped his hand from her cheek then before moving to fall back again. Reaching over, he grabbed the remote and turned off the news, leaving them alone in the darkness again. "You need to."

"I need to make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine."

"You weren't, oh, five minutes ago."

"It's fleeting."

"I'm sure," she murmured as she moved to rest against his side again, one hand thrown over his waist. "But I still want to make sure you're okay. It only takes a second for things to go from bad to horrible."

"Meaning what?"

"I dunno. If you're...depressed over all of this and you can flip, just like that, into so angry and pissed, it would only take a second for you to go in the opposite direction."

He frowned. Then he glared down at her. "What are you trying to say?"

"I don't know, Paul. I'm just-"

"I'm not going to off my damn self over the whole thing."

"That's not what I-"

"That is what you're skating around and you know it." Huffing, he said, "Wrestling means the world to me. It always has. And so do you. But even if I lost both those things, I'd find something else to do. I wouldn't like it, but-"

"Where am I going?"

"Well, I don't know," he grumbled. "Why am I killing myself just because I lose my job?"

"I didn't say that."

"You implied it."

"I thought you wanted me to go to sleep?"

Oh, yeah.

Settling into the bed, Paul only said, "I do. So do it."

With a yawn, she mumbled, "I just hate knowing that you feel this way. Even if it is fleeting."

"You don't gotta worry about me, baby. You-"

"I know." His side got a kiss. "But I'm going to anyways. You know that."

"I know." And he did. Because he'd do the same thing with her. Always. "Just worry about me when you don't need so much sleep, huh? I'll be fine till them. Promise."

When she got up some time later, it was heavy on the grogginess and not at all happy. Steph trudged around, getting ready for the day, and said very little to him. Paul was rather sleepy himself and just laid there, watching her. When she finally was ready to leave, she came over to him first, of course, to tell him goodbye.

"I'll see you-"

"You'll call me," he corrected as she bent over to give him a kiss. "When you get where you're going."

"Well, yeah, of course." He got a kiss to the cheek then. "But I was saying that I'll see you when I can get back over to this coast again."

"Have fun, you know, over there," he told her before, with a frown, he added, "but not too much fun."

"Never." His lips got a kiss that time. "And call your mother."

"Yes, ma'am." Face blank, he watched as she went to grab the bag she'd brought with her before turning to leave. "I love you."

"Love you too."

"And...have a good show or whatever." His smile was forced, but appreciated then, as she glanced back at him. He was miserable, he'd be miserable until he overcame his injury, but he could drag himself out of his misery sometimes, just for her. Always for her. "This week. Don't think too much about me."

"Impossible, but I'll try."

After she left, Paul laid around for a bit, in the darkness, as the sun started its slow journey into the sky, doing nothing but lying there. Not thinking much, he hated thinking, in those days, because there was only one thing to think about and, well, it was too bleak to enjoy any thoughts that would come from it.

So he turned on the news, to keep him company, and remind him of how the entire world was shit and it wouldn't really ever get better, but that in the grand scheme, a quad injury wasn't really that big of a deal, until Steph would call him in a few hours and, not drag out the other Paul, he was gone until January, but at least raise his spirits a bit.

And force him to call his mother right after they finished because, honestly, Paul, be an adult; no one should have to tell you to do that.

Mmmm. His life was definitely shit for the time being, but Paul would admit, it was nice to know without a doubt that he had Steph in his corner.

Even when he wasn't in the ring.


End file.
